


Part Three: The Book of Togetherness

by golden_bastet



Series: Horizon of the Aten [3]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_bastet/pseuds/golden_bastet





	1. Chapter 1

"You want to do what, now?" Bakenranef hoped in a corner of his mind that he'd just heard incorrectly. Or maybe the liquid in the large jar of beer had been over-brewed.

"Move Pharaoh Akhenaten to a different resting place," Djedi replied simply, as though he'd said, 'go for a walk.'

"Not even sure where to start with this, Idu. Thought you had a pretty solid head on your shoulders, but maybe I got it wrong. You have to be batshit crazy."

"No, no," Djedi said, "_Sounds_ crazy, but isn't impossible. We knew this was likely some day, and we've planned for years - contacts, location, equipment for all sorts of contingencies. Not everyone who left here during the Exodus turned their back on Akhetaten.

"Weren't planning on carrying any of them out quite yet, though." He frowned thoughtfully, then explained briefly what they'd had in mind.

Truthfully, the plan _did_ sound possible, if improbable. Bakenranef turned it around a bit in his head, and could see where, given not many other options, they might just be able to make it work.

"If you weren't quite ready to execute now, when did you think you would be?" He needed to know

"Maybe a couple of years. But we can move it up... well, don't have a choice, do we?" Djedi shrugged.

Bakenranef regarded the serious look painted across the priest's face, and how much this meant to him. And he couldn't envision a world where any soul, even one who had sinned as much as the old Pharaoh had, should be destroyed for all eternity.

_Been spending too much time with the priest, at that. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound_.

"Look - I do think your plan has good points, this could work. But you'll need to make a few changes."

"Like?"

"It's simple: you need a distraction, and you need transportation."

"Oh, that easy, is it? Should have thought of that myself. I'll just pop over to your commander's, point out the window at the cliffs, and borrow one of his boats, then."

"No - this really is easier that you think. It's matter of contacts, which you said you have; timing, which we can work on, and knowledge of your target - which I have."

"So you've decided to stick your neck out for a bunch of Atenist berks?"

"Of course. You're a perceptive one. Not just an ugly mug, are you?"

"You wish." Though Djedi chucked his dirty chuckle, the one which went straight to Bakenranef's loins.

They both sipped from the dishes of beer next to them, and began to discuss logistics.


	2. Chapter 2

"Seem to be better these days, Bakenranef," Ramose panted. It had been a heavy workout, and the other man had wrung him dry. Surprisingly, Bakenranef hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Clean living, Ramose. Should try it sometime."

"Right."Ramose looked just a little skeptical. "The day you practice clean living is the day I pack it in and go live among the Amor, herding sheep and raising truffles."

"Just your speed, Ramose - if your wrestling demonstration just now is any indication, age is creeping up on you."

Feet came pelting to the gates of the barracks, and the sounds of a scuffle ensued. Ramose and Bakenranef looked at each other, then ran into the courtyard where the soldiers were amassing.

"HELP! HELP!" Two men - apparently villagers - stood by the gate, agitated. "Fire - has started - down by the old House of Life - spreading to the Great Temple - need help!"

"Calm down, peasant," one of the guards commanded.

"One moment, Apy," another guard cautioned. "Enough remains here that a good fire could spread quite far. And let the embers fly far enough on the wind, and parts of the village could go up. No, we'd best check this out. Run! Alert the commander. You, man," and he pointed at one of the villagers, "what is your name?"

"Akh," the man replied.

"Renny," he gestured at one guard, "take five men with this Akh here down to survey the fire site. Saba," he waved at another guard, "gather some men and buckets, and go with the other villager to start a fire line. On your bikes! NOW!"

The camp became a hive of activity and controlled chaos, as men ran to and fro on their designated tasks. Ramose and Bakenranef found themselves amongst a pack of men headed down the boulevard south of the path to the village.

Up ahead, they saw grey tendrils, tinged with orange, and lifting into the night sky. Men had already started to form fire lines.

"Over here; the shortest line to the water is here, not the village," someone yelled, and they found themselves integrated into the line, and soon enough buckets were flying back and forth.

The work was backbreaking and endless; and from where they stood, it wasn't clear that the effort would be for aught. Sometimes the smoke clouds thickened; sometimes they died down. Acrid smoke filled their lungs whenever the breeze shifted, carrying sparks over their head. Finally, as the sky began to tinge lighter, the new day found the smoky cloud no longer rearing up; and finally the sky shone through the grey and the all-clear was sounded down the line.

The men slowly trudged back to the barracks and their palettes.

"Probably some random rubbish," hazarded Ramose. "Perhaps now the souls around here will have a little more care as to where they toss their trash. Would like to spend my nights on the palette rather than tossing buckets."

"As would I," agreed Bakenranef, although his mind was elsewhere.

"And those Atenists never showed their faces. The entire city could've burned down around them, and they would never have appeared."

"Damn them," said Bakenranef simply. "Let them burn if they wish. Too tired to care right now. Just want to put my head down."

"Damn them, indeed. And hopefully they'll be dealt with soon enough."

_That's just what I'm worried about._

Bakenranef stretched. "As long as I get fed, I don't really care." _Much._

Ramose just snorted, as usual.

And as he lay on his palette, waiting for sleep to claim him however briefly before they were to arise, he thought about Idu, and the Atenists, and the villagers, and if the sacrifice of Idu's precious Great Temple had been enough to move what they had to from the cliffs into the village.


	3. Chapter 3

Off on the horizon, a small white dot appeared, floating downstream from the south.

The men - at this point, when the major news had been shared - spared only a little interest at the presence of a single ship. The Great Road carried much traffic, and some vessel or another passed by the city on a not-infrequent basis. It was only when the boat pulled up to a pier - not the grand one by the Great Palace, where the military boats had come in, but a smaller one farther up with a few of its pilings rotted through - that the men stationed there noted anything out of the ordinary.

The arrival sparked not a little interest throughout the barracks. No supply ships were due; more importantly, the commander seemed surprised, which led to a number of barked commands and commotion around the camp. Finally, a detail went down to the water to meet the arrival, to be met by a palanquin, held aloft by six burly men and carrying a woman of surpassing beauty.

"Ma'am." The head of the detail bowed his head in respect as he addressed the woman. "We receive few visitors here. Is there some way that we can help you?"

"Ah, young man," the voice was melodious, a glory in keeping with its owner, "thank you for coming to our rescue! We are making our way back from Ta-Seti, where my husband runs a trading concern, with fine goods for sale in Wastet - but our water stores have gone bad. We come in search of fresh water so that we may continue our journey."

"Welcome, ma'am - ?" the soldier queried.

"You may call me Lady Bennefer," the woman replied.

"Lady Bennefer - and do not think me impertinent, but it is a lovely name for a lovely woman - we welcome you to Akhetaten, and invite you to rest a moment in comfort while we arrange assistance with your water stores." The captain had perhaps overstepped his bounds, but it was understandable given the goddess before him.

"Thank you, kind soldier! But we do not wish to impose ourselves on you. Please, direct us to your camp and we will make short work of our tasks."

"No imposition at all, my lady! Please, come this way, and allow us the honour of hosting your presence."

The little convoy thus wended its way to the barracks.

# # #

A group of men made their way to the ship, now shrouded in darkness. They wore plain kilts, and their heads were covered in workmen's headdresses.

"I hate night duty," grumbled Pentu. "Dark as the underworld, and you cannot see what you're doing at all."

"Well, it's just crates," Djedi whispered. "Count yourself lucky that you don't have to fight in this."

They quietly rolled now-filled casks and boxes onto the anchored ship, being careful to match the items closely to how they had been stacked when empty.

One long box was placed with special care. A couple of the men performed a quick ceremony over it, the other men quiet in respect, and then the remaining goods were stacked over it.

The ship now appeared no different from any other trading vessel, on its way to discharge its goods.

One of the men reached out and, hand on the bow, muttered a few quiet words of blessing. When he was done, the group once more bobbed their heads in reverence, and then departed.

# # #

"It has been a pleasure, Lady Bennefer. If only we could host such a delightful guest more often!" The commander was effusive in his praise.

"No, no, commander; the pleasure is mine. I will be sure to commend your hospitality. It was such a pleasant interlude to sleep on a real bed during this journey."

"Your ship is ready for your departure. Please be sure to remember us, and perhaps we may meet again." The Commander took her hand and bestowed a reverent kiss upon the palm.

"I would enjoy that greatly, Commander." The lady flashed her sweetest smile, and he assisted her into her palanquin.

The chair was hoisted up, and the visitors set off. The Commander, who after all was as human as the next man, followed with a small group of men, accompanying them down to the riverside.

The group boarded the boat, the oars were lifted, and soon enough Lady Bennefer's group was headed back on its way north. The lady herself stood in the stern, her receding figure wiggling her fingers at the Commander until they were out of sight.

Bakenranef, who was part of the departure group, hadn't realised how much he'd been holding his breath. But apparently he was the only one who noticed just how much lower in the water the boat sat as it pulled away.


	4. Chapter 4

In the dark, in the tent, Bakenranef held the other figure against him, the warmth cheering his heart although the pre-dawn was chilly.

"Our family has sent word that they have arrived and settled in completely." Djedi spoke lowly, his voice rumbling through Bakenranef's body. "They ask that no one worry after them."

_So the ship arrived as scheduled, got its cargo safely installed. That doesn't mean that everything is secure._ "What will you do now, Idu?" _Will you leave, before we're ordered to arrest you?_

"I have my duties here. It would be difficult to leave to visit them elsewhere."

"Would think that your father would want to see your face again."

"My brothers are with him. We can't all go, and leave the rest of the family to fend for themselves."

"Perhaps the family can all go to visit him."

"Perhaps. But not likely. We are not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. And someone must stay here and look after our home."

"Home is where the heart it."

Djedi turned to look directly at Bakenranef. "Home is where the gods have decreed. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bakenranef remained silent; he knew how stubborn the other man could be. But he had to figure out a way to save him.

"Doubt they'll keep your lot here for eternity," Djedi continued. "Where will you go after this?"

"Dunno. We're charioteers, we need to be someplace where we can chariot, I suppose."

"Maybe back to the border?"

"It's possible."

"Well, if this should all turn out - satisfactorily, I think I should like to visit the border someday."

"All sorts there. There would always be room for you."

"Good to hear that." A few minutes ticked by; and then, "Need to tell you something."

"Eh? What's that?"

"Name's Djedi."

"What?" Bakenranef pulled back, to give the man a look.

"Well, the priests called me Idu, mainly when they wanted something. But my recorded name is Djedi."

"Djedi." Bakenranef rolled it around his tongue for a bit. "Well, to me, you're Idu. About my speed."

Djedi sniggered a bit.

Bakenranef silenced him with a kiss.

# # #

It was shortly after the visit of Lady Bennefer that other sails appeared on the horizon, sails which were expected.

Hordes of soldiers spilled from the ships which came to dock. Bakenranef's battalion hadn't truly filled the entire space of the barracks; but now, with the extra soldiers housed with them, there was barely enough room for the place to function.

And it didn't take long before they were lined up the courtyard, and given their orders.

# # #

Bakenranef's unit was sent up into the cliffs, where the tombs were. They stood with pickaxes and adzes at the ready, awaiting instruction from the leader.

He said a quick, silent prayer for forgiveness over what they were about to do, then masked his expression and fell in with his unit.

"Men - you are to destroy any signs of the heretic. Any images, any name, any reference to The Accursed One is to be chipped out and obliterated. He has brought owe onto the land, and must pay for it with his internal life. His name shall no longer be uttered!

"This board," he indicated a wooden board set up on an easel on which characters were carefully printed, "will show you the characters to look for. We have limited time and much to cover, so focus on these glyphs," he continued. "Be sure to obliterate; nothing is to remain. At it, men!"

They snaked into a long corridor, its walls covered with a colorful forest of hieroglyphics, a line of torches brightly illuminating the space. Bakenranef could see in their ranks myriad fields, and temples, and buildings where figures marched in the happinesses of the afterlife.

A part of him cringed to make an afterlife impossible for someone, pharaoh or not, who he'd never known - even if they had been moved elsewhere.

_Forgive me._

Bakenranef found a suspect glyph, swung the pickaxe around and up ~

>Clink.<

The chips went flying. He felt as though his pickaxe were chipping into a beating heart.

>Clink.<

As he did it, he was careful to target only the indicated images, and even to skip one every so often. _Maybe this will keep the sod from complete obliteration in the afterworld._ He could hope.

This - destruction, this was why they hadn't been on their chariots in months.

A little farther down, Ramose stood, slowly and carefully chipping away at his own section of wall. The look on his face was unrecognisable, as though he would rather be almost anywhere else. By him, Kebu, who was after all very young, seemed to be almost physically ill. Though Menkhaf was happily swinging away, destroying whole swathes of wall whether or not the characters were meant to be chipped out. They'd all wondered about him; there were rumours that bandits had killed his family on the frontier, but it was only now that he looked like he'd lost all grip on any sanity that had remained. 

On a certain level, he wondered if they hadn't all lost grip on their collective sanity. He despaired for what might remain after they were done. 

He kept a mental image of Idu before him as he continued through the soul-destroying work of desecrating a tomb. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ramose often spent his rare day off down by the docks, perusing the various stands of the traders' market. Objects from all over the kingdom and the known world were to be found here, along with a cacophony of accents and figures and gestures.

It was good to be back in Abu, every step as familiar as the back of his hand.

They'd all come back from Akhetaten, that accursed place. Left that sorry place fairly soon after doing their duty, and come back to settle into their old patterns at the border post.

Except they hadn't returned to their own patterns. Menkhaf had gone from a quietly competent lad to being the most vicious of the bunch. After Akhetaten, he'd soon left the charioteers for a battalion of foot soldiers, looking for constant battle and a place to wield his axe. Young Kebu, the master at board games, had never touched them again, becoming a silent presence who did what he was told and nothing more.

And Bakenranef - Bakenranef hadn't quite come back at all. Oh, the man was physically present, did his duty and went through the motions, but some little piece of him was always distracted, seemed elsewhere. Ramose had thought that with time he'd calm down and gotten over the last posting, but nothing seemed to improve.

All water under the bridge. He wished the man well, but he himself had moved on, left the military. Now he acted as the muscle for an inn down by the wharves. Saw all sorts, but figured live and let live. As long as they paid their coin and avoided fights, he didn't rightly care. And any who got out of hand, he was more than capable of handling.

He stopped at one stall, closely perusing the vendor's wares. _Sturdy linen. Not as fine as might be found in a noble's house, but sturdy, and strong, and useful all the same._ He stepped closer and fingered the material, refusing to thinking of kings and duty and responsibilities.

A bump to his hip brought him back to the present; he whirled, ready to take on a pickpocket.

"Apologies, kind sir." It was a woman, a nurse, with a small child in tow. He was mildly surprised to see them down here, though some of the larger merchants in the area were moderately comfortable.

"The child, he -"

"No need to apologise, my lady." Ramose wasn't about to get upset over a small child. "It's not -"

Just beyond, where the traffic flowed around them, he just noticed two figures moving away. One tall, dark, wrapped in a brown cloak - he'd recognise it anywhere. The other was slightly shorter, thinner - he'd only seen him once or twice, but during a period he could never erase from his memory.

"Never mind, my lady," he replied to the woman. "No harm done. But I must attend to something."

He slipped off into the crowd, in pursuit.

# # #

Ramose's mind whirled through the possibilities. _Bakenranef had been colluding with the Atenists! But when? He had been there, with the rest of them, as they destroyed the inscriptions in the tomb. _

_Had the Atenist priest betrayed his own cause? That didn't seem likely; all he would have had to do was to announce himself to the guard._

No, something else had been going on - he'd been suspicious then.

_Ah, there they are!._ He ran up to a brown-clad form, grabbing it by the shoulder and whirling it around. "Bakenranef -"

"What is this?! Unhand me!" An elderly patrician stared back at him, incensed; his wife next to him seemed taken aback. A few passersby stopped to gawk.

_Not Bakenranef._ Ramose deflated a bit.

"My apologies, sir," he began. "I have mistaken you for an old acquaintance -"

"I have never seen you before in my life, sir! And I don't appreciate being manhandled."

"My mistake - I was too hasty."

"A fine thing when citizens are accosted while out walking in the road."

"Please forgive me," Ramose grovelled, anxious to get away as quickly as possible and continue his pursuit.

"Well, don't let it doesn't happen again, else you may end up brought before the Medjay - or worse," threatened the man. He sniffed haughtily, as he took his wife's hand and strode off.

But look high or low, Ramose had lost his quarry. They'd slipped away in the stream of bodies.

# # #

Ramose spent the next several days searching the crowds by the dock. There were various people who at first glance could have been the ones he was seeking out; but of course, ended up not. And after his near-miss with the noble, if anything he wanted to be sure.

After a week, he'd figured he'd missed then, even wondered if he'd truly seen them; it had been quick and he'd had distractions all around him.

_No. It was them. I'm sure of it._

He wandered on, vaguely searching, until he found himself opposite the ships pulled to. He easily picked out the fast boat from Wastet, down on its weekly run. Next to it were a pair of smaller craft, of the type that many of the traders used; various men were crawling over them, bringing bundles and crates on as cargo.

Some cubits down from where he stood, a long, low-slung boat was manoeuvring away from its berth on the dock. Ramose stopped to admire it. It was a beautiful, swift vessel, the lines catching his attention; its broad white sail completely unfurled and starting to catch the winds in its folds. He'd seen a boat like that the time that Lady Bennefer had appeared. He imagined it winging off to the south, launching into the promise of new adventures for its passengers. He wished them well; at one point he would have looked forward to such a journey. Truthfully that sense of exhilaration was why he had once enjoyed being stationed in Abu.

As the boat swung around, two figures tucked into the stern, away from the other passengers, caught his attention. One, a solid man in a brown robe, hovered above the other slightly shorter one. His hood was pushed back to reveal short dark hair.

_Can't be._

But from this distance, Ramose couldn't be quite sure.

The taller figure's hands came up to grab the face of the other figure, whose back faced Ramose. The hands inadvertently brushed back the other figure's hood feel back to reveal a riot of curls.

The man facing him leant over and placed a long gentle kiss on the invisible lips, then looked up. Directly at Ramose.

Ramose could just see the blue of the eyes gazing defiantly at him.

_Damn him. Bakenranef went native after all._ But the look across the face told another story, a much better one than what duty would demand.

And what would duty matter at this point?

Ramose turned away and headed back to his inn. Maybe he hadn't seen anything after all.


End file.
